


A Katniss by any other Name

by Liam_Rodgers



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Cloncest, Clone Sex, Clones, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Selfcest, copy, duplicate, duplicates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:55:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27816448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liam_Rodgers/pseuds/Liam_Rodgers
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Katniss Everdeen
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	A Katniss by any other Name

I walked inside the brilliant white room. For a death-arena, it was much cleaner than I expected. It was also about as plain as it should be. There were no seats, or beds, or weapons, or anything. Just white porcelain tiles covering the floor, wall, and even ceiling. If I didn’t know what I was in for, I’d call it a lovely room that needed more decorating. More color especially. 

What stood out to me was the large mirror at the other end of the wall I was facing. Perhaps it was a morbid way to get us in the mindset of having to take ourselves down, but I just can’t see how that would work. A reflection isn’t a person. Nevertheless, I studied mine anyway, trying to look for a weakness I could exploit, but it didn’t take long before I realized how pointless such a tactic would be. If I knew of a weakness of myself, my clone would know it too. 

Unlike the art of hunting, there were no advantages, or disadvantages in this fight. Just a struggle between two instances of the same person until a stroke of luck decides the victor.

If I lost, then I would forfeit my life to a total stranger by rights. A different person who just looked, sounded, and behaved the same as me, even possessing all my memories and intellect, but that still doesn’t make her me. At least I don’t think it does. Another version, or instance of myself, but not me. She could be identical to me down to the atoms of her cells being perfect replicas of mine, but she would still never breathe the same air as I do, drink the same water as I do, or take up the same space as I do. If I were to lose- to die- to her, this interloper would gain full range- full and unimpeded access to my life and would live the rest of her days under the guise that she is the real Katniss Everdeen.

Whether or not that would be true, I suppose neither of us could say unequivocally. In many ways, she could get away with calling herself Katniss Everdeen. She would be. Then again, so am I. There can’t be two Katniss Everdeens, could there? The more I thought about it, the more my head hurt trying to make sense of it all.

By the time I was massaging my forehead to ease the pressure of the migraine I got from overthinking, I realized that a minimum of 30 minutes had flown by. This was supposed to be the room where the death match was to take place, so where was my opponent?

Before I finished asking myself this question, my heart sank as the pit of my stomach churned, and my throat closed up. My heart beats rapidly became audible as I could feel the rhythm speed up in my neck.

That mirror was no mirror at all.

That was the girl whose existence caused me to get a migraine. She had caused me all this stress and anxiety, and somehow I missed that I was- that we- were staring at each other for over half an hour straight.

Whatever methods the Game Makers employed to get me face-to-face with myself, they were inarguably brilliant. I had no clue how or when they had they obtained the data necessary to recreate me perfectly. Her shallow gray eyes gazed upon me while I traced her straight black hair down to her sun-kissed olive skin. It was scary. If they could make another me so perfectly so seamlessly, could they make copies of people and plant them without anyone knowing about it? What if I knew someone that is just a copy of someone else had no idea? What if my mother or Prim were somehow copied and replaced?

I tried not to dwell on the thought too much, but it was eating me alive. The Capitol’s selfishness knew no bounds. They could just as easily use this technology to send copies of people for the Hunger Games, but instead they choose to send the read deals. Fresh meat.

As my mind, body, and soul were inundated with these thoughts, my duplicate stood in the same place daydreaming about what was no doubt the same thing as I.

No part of me wanted to hurt her, let alone kill her. She was beautiful. Perfect in every way imaginable. As her wandering eyes met my daze, I thought she could hunt and help me with maintaining my family. With our combined efforts, two of me would bring back twice as much game. Twice as much game meant double the profits. A second me would come with another mouth to feed, but my mouth didn’t take much to feed, and knew how to feed itself. Twice the game, double the profits, and only half the effort for it. A strange thought, but if I had to marry anyone to keep my family stable, by my logic, she was the pragmatic choice. Myself.

Oh how useful it would have been to have a second me around earlier. Then volunteering for tribute in Prim's place would have at least left me with a clean conscience. Knowing that even if I were gone, there would be a spare lying around to care for Prim and my mother.

While I pondered the implications of marrying myself, my replica stood there daydreaming like I was. When we locked eyes, it dawned on me that she was thinking the same thing, and would agree to marry me if I asked. We wouldn’t have to, but we would anyway just to keep my mother from trying to set me up with someone.

Two women getting married isn’t all that uncommon, especially in the Capitol, but in District Twelve, I would be the talk of the town for the rest of the district’s existence if I announced I was marrying myself. The judgment of others I’d gladly ignore, but what Prim and even my mother would say, had left me the most troubled.

Not that any of that mattered. I was here to kill myself, not marry myself. We already wasted a lot of time doing nothing, so one of us needed to act. Whichever one of me died, I could rest easy knowing that if I survived, and my copy won the Games, Prim and my mother would be in good hands. As for now, I had to give the capitol a show or else neither one of me would get the chance to return home to the district and see Prim again… or see Gale again…

That thought I could not live with, and was the fuel that propelled my feet to approach the other Katniss. I imagine that my same thoughts ran through her mind as well. Her steps matched mine perfectly. As if she were a harmless reflection, and not a killer clone.

By the time we were face to face, I froze. Suddenly the weight of what I was expected to do stood on my shoulders. It slowed my movements, and found any motion that I attempted was sluggish. Not by any external force, but by my own mind. Standing this close to the other Katniss, the emotions behind those steely gray eyes were ambiguous to everyone. Not me. Anyone but me. Gale could try, but even he couldn’t read me with one hundred percent accuracy. Me, on the other hand, those eyes that obstructed the thoughts and intents behind them- those were mine. I saw them every time I faced a mirror. They obstructed nothing to me. I knew that she wanted to kill me as much as I wanted to get in the Hunger Games arena. She knew that too.

In unison, we both averted our gazes into each other’s eyes to the back glass ball that poked out from the pure white ceiling. It must have been a strange sight for any observer to see two of me abreast looking back at them. When we turned to each other again, we knew we couldn’t prolong the inevitable blood-bath that they wanted to see.

Slowly, painfully so, we each raised one arm, and formed a ring around the others neck, shattering the invisible barrier between us. Her hand was as rough as mine, but the gentle soft skin on her neck was far more feminine than I expected it to be. So delicate. Our gazes met one more, and I could feel her pulse raise against my thumb. As if directed by someone else, my hand refused to tighten its grip around Katniss’ neck. Instead, it slid to the side and caressed her. Likewise, I could feel the rough skin of her hand gliding to mirror the position of my hand. 

Clearly feeling her heart beating wildly in her throat, I drew her head close to mine, and she drew me in to her. Our eyes kept darting around when our noses touched. Even I didn’t know why I was doing this, but I didn’t know I loved the faint scent of strawberries on her hair. My eyes were fixed on her small, relatively thin lips. They looked so plain, but there was a thirst I felt then. A craving that I needed to be satisfied. My lips moved on their own, dying to meet hers.

Burning a whole in my stomach, a blaze was lit all over my upper body. My cheeks had never been so red, I’m sure. Her lips were so much plusher than they appeared. The soft moan she let out reverberated in my head.  
It was soothing, like a bell’s chime. We kissed each other deeply. Each one was somehow even better than the last. We both froze up a bit when the tips of our tongues touched. The immense pleasure building from just our lip contact must have caused us to get carried away. I wasn’t aware of my tongue’s location until it was brushing against my clone’s. Against the other me’s warm moist tongue. If I wasn’t aware of my tongue's position before, I was acutely aware of it now. Before then, I hadn’t even thought of the other Katniss having a tongue. How I could miss such a savory detail is beyond me.

Things didn’t escalate much further than those sweet, sweet seconds where I was french kissing myself. Moments afterwards, there was a sharp sting and numbness on the back of my neck, and everything went dark. When I awoke, Haymich was telling me about how the gamemakers now wanted to test our fears rather than force a death match. Apparently the decision had to do with my performance, and some girl named Clove who went through the same thing. I suppose that meant that the other me was dead, or in storage, but I can’t decide which is worse. Either way, I made up my mind to live beyond the games for both our sakes. Be it that I’m the clone, or original, Katniss Everdeen lives on in me.


End file.
